


Taking the Veil

by aspiringwarriorlibrarian (OverconfidentFanficWriter)



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Ezra doesn't care about your stupid gender roles, It's a big galaxy, Jedi, Lothal, Other Force traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 00:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11909703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverconfidentFanficWriter/pseuds/aspiringwarriorlibrarian
Summary: Ezra explores his mother's traditions while building his own when he finds her head covering and decides to keep it. Written for a prompt on swrrequests.





	Taking the Veil

He held it carefully. She always wore it in his visions, strangely enough, although he doubted imperial prisons would have allowed it. They'd allowed Luminara a cover, he remembered with a shudder, but there was no way they'd have given the same courtesy to his mother. The Empire hated aliens, and it hated hybrids even more. The idea of a woman who could have passed completely for human taking on her grandmother's dress and culture would have repulsed them.

Well, not completely. She'd never had any tattoos, and never wanted them. She carved her own identity young and showed her pride through her clothes, which more often than not were jogan blossom lavender, the traditional Lothali color of spirituality.

This one was lavender too. He'd never seen a Mirialan with metalwork in their headdress. Maybe that had come from someone else in their line that he never knew, or maybe she'd added it herself. It was quintessentially her.

And his as well, he supposed, since he'd decided to come back and get it.

Kanan had always encouraged him to explore more of the Force beyond the Jedi, letting him chant with the Lasat and study with the Mirialans, and when he learned of Lothal's native religion he'd been more than supportive. It was Ezra who'd been hesitant, because all of his memories of it were intertwined with his mother.

It fit well, which surprised him, and completely covered his hair. The wimple wouldn't fit with the collar of his jacket, so he folded it up and put it away. Maybe he'd put it on later, maybe he wouldn't. If he was going to honor her, truly honor her, he'd make his own decisions.

Sabine was waiting outside with the speeder. She looked up and seemed a bit taken aback.

"Well, how do I look?"

Sabine seemed to consider that, like she wanted to make fun of him but knew this was too important. "Light purple with orange....it would work better the other way around, if you darkened the purple and lightened the orange just a bit. It clashes but it could work, in a contrast sort of way."

"The light purple is symbolic, so I'm not sure if I want to give it up. I guess we can figure something out." Ezra responded. "Maybe make a new outfit for it, save it for a special occasion. I never met my mother's side of the family, but there are a few Mirialans on base who might know something about it."

She shrugged. "It's your call. As long as it stays on." He climbed behind her and they sped away under the light of the twin moons.

The dances, the festivals, and the offerings had all been banned, but it hadn't stopped the Lothalites. The worship of local spirits and ancestors lived on in graffiti, in mirror fragments, in bits of food or stray credits or flowers that anyone else might mistake for trash if they hadn't the eyes to see. "Lothal evolves with us, Ezra." Mom had always said. "It accepts the new and changes the old. But no matter how much changes, its soul remains the same."

His mother had integrated her grandmother's teachings into the old ways, and he would integrate hers into the Jedi ways. She knew about connection, good and evil, and the spark that drove it all, and even if he hadn't wanted to remember what she'd taught him had resonated even into his early training. Knowledge was sparse now, but he'd find all he could, to learn the lessons she never got a chance to teach him, and carry them on into the world.

_Mom, I hope I make you proud._


End file.
